


The Door Between Us

by narcissablaxk



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Abigail is still the real MVP, Anna and Edmund actually tell each other the truth, F/M, Fix it for 3.08, Kind of angsty, oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:07:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7204019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcissablaxk/pseuds/narcissablaxk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anna's talk with Abigail sends her running back to Edmund; too bad he has no interest in listening to her now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's your fix-it for 3.08. It's still a little angsty, and it's only a little glimmer of hope, but I'm a sucker for dramatic admissions of love so.

After her disastrous talk with Hewlett, Anna wasn’t sure how she managed to put one foot in front of the other long enough to reach Abigail’s place of residence. She hardly felt anything; the look of dejection, of heartbreak, that Hewlett had given her, even after she tried to explain herself, had caused her physical pain. She had managed to mostly keep her promise to herself, which was not to lie to him any more. But telling him she was a spy, even though she knew he would never reveal her, and the look of betrayal that crossed his face after she uttered those words – it took something from her, something fundamental, and though she hadn’t identified it yet, she keenly felt its loss. She felt her losses more each day – Edmund, Selah, Abraham, her home, her tavern, her entire way of life. 

And then he asked her the question she told herself never to answer. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes again. His face clearly told her that he already knew the answer to the question, and he was merely asking for his own closure. She couldn’t bring herself to answer truthfully. Answering truthfully would leave him open for heartbreak again and again and again. The sobs flowed easily through her now; she was a hurricane, she was a tornado, a natural disaster. No matter how much she loved him, and she did, she did, God she did, he would always end up hurt. 

What would they do? Go back to Washington’s camp? Would he go back to Scotland anyway? Would he try to convince her to go with him? None of the options were available to them anymore. Better that he feel pain for her one more time than feel it forever. 

Edmund loved her like she was the woman who made the universe, the woman that hung the moon. He made her into a goddess of wisdom, beauty, and perfection. She knew, and she wished she could convince him, that she wasn’t any of those things. She was struggling, with every step she took, every single breath she took, to continue down the path she’d chosen. 

But she loved Edmund because she knew his faults. She knew he was quick to avoid conflict, almost to a fault, she knew he wasn’t truly suited to military life. She knew he was soft, he was easy to manipulate, and he was easily duped. But he was kind, he was generous, and he was the purest soul she’d known in her entire life. She loved him because of who he was, not who she hoped he would be. 

Though, in retrospect, she couldn’t understand how Edmund would love her for who she was. No one else did. They all loved her for what she could do, what she represented. She was a sexual object to Abraham, a symbol of their childhood, of an innocence he missed. To Caleb and Ben, she was the reason they continued to fight. She was the one that needed protecting. She was the token woman they needed to justify their fervor for war. 

But for Edmund, she was a beacon. She was a guiding light. 

She wished she could be that. 

She stood in front of Abigail’s door, trying to gather the courage to knock. She wiped at her eyes again, banishing all of her tears away, somewhere she could lock them away until she was alone again. 

She would always be alone. 

The thought almost brought tears to her eyes again. Quickly, she raised her fist and knocked on the door, hoping the appearance of her childhood friend would send her tears away. 

But it was Cicero that opened the door, much taller than she remembered, and tears sprung to her eyes anyway. Time was passing so quickly, so steadily, and she was squandering her own possibility at happiness to sneak around and lie. 

“Miss Anna!” he exclaimed, vaulting into her arms. She hugged him tightly, probably too tightly, relishing in the fact that at least someone was glad to see her. 

“I can’t believe how you’ve grown!” Anna kissed the top of his head, noting sadly that she hardly had to bend to do it. “And how old I feel saying that.” 

Abigail was leaning on the wall down the hallway. Anna suddenly realized, with a jolt, that the last time she had seen her in person, she threatened her to get into Andre’s house. To get to Abe. So she could sacrifice her body for the sake of her country. Would Abigail forgive her? Had she forgiven her? 

“Abigail… It’s good to see you. I’m sorry I stopped by announced; I just wanted to see you before I left the city,” Anna finally said uneasily, fidgeting with her dress. 

There was a long silence before Abigail gave her friend a small smile. “The major won’t be home until nightfall. Have some tea.”

Anna let out a relieved sigh and followed Abigail into the drawing room. 

“You don’t look well,” Abigail pointed out, guiding Anna to a chair and pouring the tea. 

Anna sighed heavily, feeling the heavy rain pressure on her eyes that always followed crying. “I just had to have an unfortunate conversation with Edmund.” 

“Edmund?” Abigail asked, quirking her eyebrows. “You mean Major Hewlett?” 

Anna found herself telling Abigail the entire painful ordeal, stumbling over some of the more raw parts of it, trying to hide her emotions as best she could. Despite her attempts, she felt one tear sneak free of her eyes, and another. Cicero, still standing by the doorway, fetched her a handkerchief and passed it to her with a small, sad smile. 

“I always thought he was kind,” he told her softly.

“Engaged? My goodness! I didn’t know you had feelings for him,” Abigail gave Anna a sly smile that lacked the judgment she was used to getting from everyone else. 

“Neither did I, but it wasn’t meant to be,” Anna shrugged, but the words were shaky, carried on a breath that she couldn’t steady. 

Abigail gave her a soft smile that comforted her. “Is it ever? When Akinbode brought Cicero back he asked me to run away with him to Canada.” She lowered her eyes to her lap, where her hands were fidgeting. “I wasn’t ready. Besides, I didn’t need a man to lead me - I can go on my own.” Anna felt a proud smile tugging at her lips. That was exactly what she needed to hear. She could lead herself. She didn’t need Edmund. “But I miss him and now it seems he’s gone for good.”

Anna’s triumph faded. “I’m sorry. He had to look out for himself, and so do you. You need to do what you think best.”

Abigail nodded, and shrugged at the same time. “What I need to do and what I think best are two different things.”

Anna felt a lump in her throat. 

“Anna I… I’ve been working for Major Andre.”

Suddenly, the purpose of her mission came back to her. She was supposed to get information from Abigail, but after hearing her talk about Akinbode, and after seeing the carnage she caused Edmund, Anna didn’t know if she could exploit her friend again. 

“I know,” she finally said, taking her first sip of the already cold tea. 

“And I don’t just mean cooking and cleaning.”

“I’m not here for that,” Anna interrupted quickly. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” She wouldn’t coerce anyone else to give her anything anymore. She had seen what that caused. 

There was a long silence, one that let Anna’s mind wander in a way she regretted. She was hardly focused on the possibility of more information. What if he was gone for good? The guilt filled her again and she had to take a deep breath to keep herself contained. She felt…lost, adrift. 

Finally, Abigail spoke. “We’re just making conversation, right? Major Andre left a woman he loves back in Philadelphia so she could introduce him to a continental general there.”

Anna sat up a little straighter. “A general?” she asked. 

Abigail smiled at her reaction and turned to her son. “You want to take this one?” she asked. 

Cicero looked proud, and Anna felt another pang of guilt. They were turning their children into spies now too. For the sake of their safety. For the sake of a war. 

“General Benedict Arnold.”

***

Anna’s frenzied steps echoed down the dark alley as she hitched up her skirts higher so she could run. Cicero’s information, Abigail’s confirmation, it meant that Benedict Arnold had turned to the other side. And knowing that…knowing that meant that the war was going to shift. 

It was going to end soon. 

She could feel it, deep in her bones. This was going to change everything. 

She stopped at the tavern that she had met Edmund in and shoved the door open, casting her eyes around for him. Only slightly surprised, she saw that he wasn’t sitting at any of the tables. Trust that luck wouldn’t be on her side when she needed it the most. 

“Anna?” Robert Townsend was standing at the counter, cleaning a pewter tankard. His eyes were wide with surprise and fear. “What are you doing here? Is everything okay?” 

“How soon can you get information to Abraham?” Anna asked breathlessly, dropping her voice at Abe’s name. Robert’s eyes rose from hers to scan the room quickly for eavesdroppers. 

“That depends on how important it is,” he considered, his voice maddeningly slow. Anna tapped her fingers impatiently on the counter. Robert’s eyes fell to her fingers admonishingly and she slowly halted her fidgeting. 

“Important,” she emphasized the word carefully, placing her hand on his arm. “Benedict Arnold is a traitor.” 

Robert’s hand, working to clean the inside of the tankard, halted for a long moment. He stared at her, his mind working furiously to comprehend what was, effectively, the biggest piece of information they had gotten so far. 

His eyes rose to someone behind him. “Good evening, Major, I left you a glass of your favorite cabernet in your room.” 

The uneven steps going up the stairs caught Anna’s attention. 

Edmund. 

“Major Hewlett,” Anna blurted before she could stop herself. Robert’s eyes locked on hers and widened. 

Edmund paused in his ascent up the stairs and turned back to her. “Mrs. Strong,” he acknowledged her with a tilt of his head. She saw his eyes fall to her hand, still resting on Robert’s arm. He chuckled a silent laugh, one devoid of mirth, and turned to continue up the stairs. 

“Wait,” she called after him, but he wouldn’t stop. She turned back to Robert long enough to say, “get word to Abe,” and followed him up the stairs. 

He seemed to know she was following behind him; she could see his shoulders tense at the sound of her shoes on the floor. When he reached his room, he paused with his back to her, making no move to open the door. 

“Why are you here?” he asked stonily. 

She faltered here. She knew why she was here, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. How was she supposed to tell him that she lied, that she loved him after all? He wouldn’t believe her. How was she supposed to tell him that she was going to smuggle him into Washington’s camp because if they knew Benedict Arnold was a spy, then the war was about to end, and the man she loved was on the wrong side?

“Mrs. Strong?” he prompted, turning halfway to her. His eyes were still shining with that same sadness, that same anger. She accepted it, she felt it keenly. She wanted to feel it, along with her self-loathing. She earned it. 

“I lied to you,” she finally said, figuring that she might as well say everything. 

He shrugged. “Again?” he asked sarcastically. “Color me surprised.” 

“Can we speak in your room?” she asked, almost desperately. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in the hallway, where anyone else could hear them. 

“No.” 

“Edmund –”

He closed his eyes against his Christian name. “Don’t,” he snapped. “Do not.”

She paused. “Major,” she amended. “I lied to you before to save your life, and that was the wrong decision. But now I need to tell you the truth to save your life again.” 

“Why?” he asked, his curiosity momentarily taking over his anger.

She hesitated, glancing around the hallway. Edmund mirrored her movement. “Say it,” he commanded. “So you can get back to your next target.” 

“My next –?”

“The young Townsend downstairs?” Edmund almost sneered the man’s name. “I take it he’s married too?” 

“That was hurtful.” 

“Imagine that.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment, Anna trying to figure out how to continue, Edmund struggling to contain his emotions. Finally, Anna cleared her throat. 

“I want to take you somewhere safe,” she said, placing careful emphasis on the last two words. Edmund furrowed his brows and shook his head, turning completely away from her. 

“Nowhere you can take me is anywhere I want to go,” he answered, finally opening the door to his room and closing it behind him, leaving Anna in the hallway. She heard the lock click loudly. Anna felt desperation fill her and she pounded her fist on the door, letting the aggressive motions shake tears out of her. 

She heard nothing from the other side of the door, and when her arms started to ache, she leaned against the door and slid to the floor, taking some sick satisfaction that Edmund would have to hear her cry if she stayed here. 

He deserved to know that at least what she had to say meant something to her. She felt like nothing else would convince him. He had lost so much faith in her when she extinguished his guiding light. 

“I know you can hear me,” she said quietly, her voice thick with tears. “I wish I could tell you how much I hate myself, how much I wish I could have taken the responsibility for everything, how much I would have done to keep you safe. I got stuck between my love for Abraham, a boy that doesn’t even exist anymore, and my love for you, a bright future I didn’t think I deserved.” 

A heavy sob shuddered through her, and she clutched at her chest, trying to breathe past the constricting corset. 

“I came here under orders to get a pass to the city from you, at any cost. And I decided to tell you the truth about why our wedding didn’t happen. But I never told you how happy I was when I thought I might actually get to marry you. How proud I would have been to be your wife. I –” she sobbed once more, “I haven’t felt love like yours since my parents got taken from me.” 

“Selah didn’t know me enough to love me, Abraham loved me because I was something he wanted, a novelty. You loved me because of the good you saw in me. The good I couldn’t even see in myself. And I loved you because you were capable of seeing good in me. Because you are a good and decent man. I never wanted to do this to you. I just wanted to live up to that woman you thought I could be.”

“But I’m always going to let you down.”

She didn’t even know if he was listening anymore, if he could even understand her through her tears, but she couldn’t stop now that she had started. 

“I loved you, I loved you so much it caused my physical pain. I am in pain every single day because I know that I ruined you, just like I ruin everything else. I sacrificed everything for my country, but my country doesn’t care about me. I would have given all of it up, my country, my friends, my home, so that I could be your wife. And I know that I told you I didn’t love you, but I lied. God I lied, just like I keep doing, no matter what I promise. I lied because I don’t want you to die for me, like my parents, like so many soldiers. I want you to be safe, and you can’t be safe with me.” 

“So why are you here?” his voice wafted through the door, and Anna jumped. She had gotten so used to the silence on the other side of the door that she hadn’t even considered that he was listening. 

“Because if I don’t take you with me, you’re going to die,” she insisted, finally standing up. “Edmund, please, let me in.” 

There was a long moment of silence before he opened the door. His eyes were red, and Anna was suddenly sure that he had cried through her entire confession. He stepped aside, and she closed the door quickly behind him. 

“Now, why exactly am I going to die?” he asked.

“I just got some information that is going to end the war,” Anna said vaguely, “and that means that you’re about to be on the wrong side. If luck isn’t on your side, you won’t make it back to England before your side loses.” 

“How does that affect me?” 

“Because when the spies are all revealed, they’ll know that you knew about them. You’ll be tried for treason,” Anna explained, struggling to contain her urge to reach for his hands. She could see them, clasped in front of him, trying to keep the fidgeting in check while he considered her information. 

“What is the information?” he asked. 

This was a test, Anna knew. He wanted to know how truthful she was going to be. With confidence, she whispered, “Your side has turned Benedict Arnold to their side and intend to use him as the means to win the war. Now that we know, the British army has no spy in our ranks, and we only have to cast the killing blow in York City before the war is over.” 

“That could take months.” 

She groaned. “I don’t want to take that chance, Edmund. Not with you.” 

“I still have to be cashiered,” Edmund protested weakly, turning away from Anna long enough to run his fingers through his hair, swiftly removing his wig for a moment before replacing it. 

“Who cares?” Anna exclaimed. “By the time they get around to you, York City might not be yours anymore, and who knows what will happen in that battle.” 

He furrowed his brows. “You think I can’t protect myself in battle?” 

Finally, she gave into her impulse and reached for his hands. He flinched like he was going to pull them away, but she held them tight. “I know that you can protect yourself, but I don’t want to take the chance. I chose to break your heart to keep you safe, and now I’m choosing to tell you the truth so that I can keep you safe again.”

“You’ve loved me for so long, you’ve suffered for so long, without any indication that you would ever know if I loved you back. I owe you this. Let me protect you,” she implored him, locking onto his eyes desperately. “I do love you, Edmund. And I would like to love you for a long time.” 

“I don’t know if I believe you,” he admitted quietly, and she could see tears swimming there once more. 

She nodded. “I understand,” she said softly, letting her hand rise and settle on his cheek delicately. “But will you give me a chance to show you?” she asked. 

She didn’t know how long she stood there, praying and hoping that he would give her another chance, even if it was just a sliver of one. Even if he still hated her, if he at least allowed her to protect him, to take him from York City, she would be happy. She would gladly suffer for the rest of her life if she could protect his life now. 

He freed his hands from hers and stepped away from her, turning toward the bed, toward the window. 

“What do we need to do?”


	2. An Ocean Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will now be a three-part fic. This second chapter is the same as chapter one, but from Edmund's point of view. The third and final installment will take place the next day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for the continued encouragement (and demands) to continue this fic. I'm so glad you enjoyed my portrayal of the characters. I appreciate all of you so much. 
> 
> And for some reason, I never manage to figure out including italics in these updates, so for that small difference, you can find the chapter on my tumblr too!

“Now I must quit you.” 

Looking back on it now, Edmund wasn’t sure if that line made him proud or embarrassed. It felt forced, poorly written, but the stricken look that clouded Anna’s face after he said it gave him an almost horrified sense of satisfaction. That was the only way he felt much of anything anymore. He was full of so much anger, so much hatred, so much other ugliness. Sitting still, with all of that boiling and festering in him, was nauseating. 

He wished he could hate Anna Strong. He desperately wished he could say that he hated her. But just her handwriting sent his heart into his throat. The same handwriting she used to forge her divorce papers. The memory made him pause. He had spent every moment of his time trying to understand why she would have forged those papers and then claim to be forced into it. 

More often than not, he abandoned those thoughts, fraught with humiliation and self-loathing, until he’d consumed a fair amount of wine. Those nights, clumsy with drink and grief, he spent most of his time lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Those thoughts never led in the direction he wanted. 

Nothing did anymore. 

He had hoped that by granting Anna a pass into the city, that he could wrangle some truth from her. He deserved it, after all. And she had obliged, as much as she probably ever would. Her admission to being a spy had been simultaneously surprising and entirely expected. 

Of course she was a spy. 

But what he would never get over, what he would never be able to forget, was her answer to the most important question. 

“Did you ever love me?” 

The silence should have been all he needed. But he was becoming increasingly adept at sniffing out when Anna was lying. He prompted her once more, and saw in her face the same pleading look she gave him when she ruined their wedding. The wide, scared eyes that silently begged don’t ask me again. 

So when she released her first sob, with the almost imperceptible shake of her head, Edmund sighed with her. 

Liar, he thought vehemently. 

Knowing that she loved him was supposed to make him happy. But knowing that she still wouldn’t admit it, whether it was just to him or to herself as well, just hurt him more. Wasn’t he worth the truth? Didn’t he deserve at least that? 

One day, if he ever saw her again, he’d ask her if she cried when she lied to everyone, or if that was reserved just for him. 

He had left the tavern after that, hoping against his better judgment that she would come after him, tell him the truth, curse his name, anything. 

But he made it all the way to the harbor with no sign of her. The sight of the water, knowing he couldn’t walk anymore with his small amount of hope lingering in his mind, ached more than he expected. 

He stared at the water for a long time, watching the ebb and flow of the ocean, comparing it to the universe above. Eternal, beautiful, dangerous. 

It brought his mind right back to Anna. 

Finally, he cursed loudly into the sea air, trying to contain his emotions enough to keep from throwing his damn red coat and his wig into the fathomless ocean. His voice echoed over the water, and a few soldiers stopped to look at him, but they didn’t say anything. He supposed there wasn’t much to say anyway. 

“Major Hewlett?” 

Of course someone that knew him would hear. Edmund sighed heavily through his nose and turned around to greet the one that had intruded into his private self-loathing. 

“Ahh, young Mr. Townsend,” Edmund’s anger dissipated. Robert Townsend was one of the few people at the tavern that he could stand. “Finished with your family business already?” 

Townsend swung his leg off his horse and landed gracefully in a way that made Edmund jealous. Without two of his toes, he would never be that nimble again. He shifted on his feet self-consciously. 

“It was only a quick errand,” he replied vaguely. “Are…are you alright?” 

Edmund sighed heavily. “I’ll be fine eventually, I suppose.” 

Townsend surveyed him knowingly. “That girl again?” he asked. “Come on, man, buck up, it’s not like she’s here.” 

Edmund momentarily regretting telling Townsend the entire ugly, sorry affair. He found it easier to open up to someone that wasn’t from Setauket, someone who didn’t care about him at all. All he held back was her name. Rarely could he bring himself to say her name to himself, much less to others. It spoke to the depth of his heartbreak, he supposed. 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Edmund said heavily, ruefully. “She is here.” 

Townsend’s eyes shot up. “She’s here? In York City? How?”

Edmund shuffled on his feet. “I gave her a pass.” 

Townsend sighed at him, looking much like a disappointed father. He didn’t have to say anything; Edmund knew what he was thinking: why would you invite that kind of pain? What kind of lovesick fool are you, you poor, miserable man?

“And, what? You ran away from her?” Townsend asked with a laugh in his deep voice. “Decided to pay her back for leaving you at the altar?” 

Edmund shrugged against the stab of pain he felt at the joke Townsend was trying to make. “I hoped she’d give me closure,” he reasoned. Townsend’s smile faded to an almost sympathetic frown. 

“And did she?” he asked, pulling his horse closer to them both. 

“Closed one wound only to open more,” Edmund answered. 

Townsend frowned harder. “I am sorry,” he said softly, sincerely. The sheer quietness of his response bolstered Edmund a little. Here was someone who sympathized, someone who understood. 

“What about you?” he asked. “And your secret love?” 

Townsend paused all movement. “It isn’t secret,” he corrected gently. “It’s unrequited.” 

“Believe it or not, I can sympathize,” Edmund said seriously, gently petting the nose of Townsend’s horse. He missed Bucephalus. 

“No one can sympathize,” Townsend said. “It’s unlawful. And impossible.” 

It was Edmund’s turn to frown. “My apologies,” he said. The horse nudged him gently on the hand. “What is his name?” he asked awkwardly, trying to dispel the darkened silence that had taken over them. 

“Abraxas,” Townsend answered quietly. 

A mythological, historical name, just like Bucephalus. “What a fitting name,” Edmund replied thickly, trying to banish the lump in his throat. “Would…would you mind terribly if I put him in the stable for you?” he asked nervously. “You see, my horse, my best friend, Bucephalus, was poisoned,” Townsend flinched, “and I miss him dearly.” 

Townsend passed him the reins. “He goes in the third stall,” he said kindly. “And he likes to have his neck brushed.” 

With a quiet, almost unseen smile, Edmund took the reins. “Thank you.” 

Townsend shrugged and trudged toward the tavern. Edmund watched him go, Abraxas sniffing his wig experimentally. When he was out of sight, he moved toward the stables, Abraxas following obediently. 

The gentle, relaxing sound of his hooves lulled Edmund into a comfortable reverie. By the end of the year, he would be back in Scotland, with his mother, the horses, and the countryside. 

But he would still be alone. He would always be alone. 

He gently brushed the brown horse’s neck, relishing in the sweet way his eyes would close as the rhythmic stroking soothed him. He fed him a carrot, carefully avoiding apples, and quietly closed the door behind him. He considered briefly asking Townsend if he could care for Abraxas until he was cashiered. 

The walk back to the tavern was a short one; Edmund glanced at the table he and Anna had sat at, already knowing she wouldn’t be there. She had a mission to complete, after all. But, as he looked up to Townsend’s typical post, his stomach dropped to his feet. 

He remembered her plaid cape, the tendrils of her dark hair sneaking out of her bun. He averted his eyes; he was quitting her, quitting, quitting, and quickly tried to ascend the stairs as swiftly as he could with his damaged foot.

“Good evening, major, I left you a glass of cabernet in your room,” Townsend said warmly. Edmund glanced down at him, to thank him with a nod, but Anna’s hand was on Townsend’s arm, much too familiar. It was yet another punch to his gut, a blow that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to take. Townsend’s words came back to him. 

Unlawful. Impossible. 

“Major Hewlett,” her voice was breathless, and it snatched all coherent thought from him. Damn her. It was the same voice she used after he kissed her, her breath soft against his mouth. It ached to remember that now. 

He could see, from the corner of his eye, Townsend putting the pieces together. 

“Mrs. Strong,” his eyes never left her hand on Townsend’s arm. Jealously burned through him, lighting him on fire slowly, painfully. He chuckled with no mirth, and he shook his head. Of course Townsend would love Anna Strong. Who wouldn’t? The poor man. 

He trudged up the stairs, as angrily as he could manage. 

“Wait,” he heard her call. 

He wouldn’t, he promised himself, struggling to untangle the explosion of emotions that erupted in his chest when he heard her shoes following him up the stairs. 

She was finally coming after him, but wasn’t it a little late for that? He wasn’t sure he could handle another confrontation with her. Now or ever. 

He had reached the door to his room. His hand fidgeted with the key. He had her lodged firmly in his heart; if he couldn’t get space between them, he wasn’t sure he’d recover. As angry as he was, having her alone in a room, in his bedroom, was too much to bear. It would remind him of what they would never have, of the conversations they’d had when he trusted her; when he thought they trusted each other. 

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice hard. He saw her flinch in surprise; he so rarely used that tone with her. Momentarily, he felt guilty, but it was overshadowed immediately with a tsunami of anger. What had he done to deserve this pain, this knife that kept getting twisted in him? 

She seemed to be struggling with herself; he watched the internal battle, as he had often done in Whitehall. His patience was at an end. He dropped his hand to the doorknob, and his ring struck it loudly, the sound jolting her.

“Mrs. Strong.” 

His voice was demanding, harsh. For a moment, he saw her chin lift, that same defiant pose that he loved so much, and felt his walls falter. He would not let her in again. 

“I lied to you,” she blurted. 

Immediately, his mind jumped back to that shake of her head, the wide eyes, the I never loved you. He dared not hope. 

“Again?” his voice was full of the rage he just couldn’t seem to dispel. “Color me surprised.” 

The hurt that registered on her face didn’t move him. “Can we speak in your room?” she asked, her voice strained with excitement and a tinge of nerves. 

“No.” The response jumped out of him forcibly. He could hardly handle seeing her face, much less hear her pleas in a private room. 

“Edmund –”

The pain rushed back; it burned through him. He remembered his name on her lips when he could still feel them against his, his name on her lips when she feared for his life, his name on her lips when she struggled over it the first time. He closed his eyes against the rush of memories. 

“Don’t,” he demanded sharply. “Do not.” It came out more as a plea than a demand the second time, the word softened on the edge of tears.

He couldn’t do this; he could feel tears burning in his chest. He closed his eyes again, trying desperately to stay in control. 

“Major,” she amended, but the damage was already done. “I lied to you before to save your life, and that was the wrong decision. But now I need to tell you the truth to save your life again.” 

He was getting really exhausted with his life being in danger; as long as he stood beside Anna Strong, it seemed like he was always on some sort of frontlines, whether it was from her or the war. He sighed heavily. As much as he didn’t want part of it, he wanted to know. 

“Why?” 

She glanced around the hallway, looking for listening ears. Oh, so this information was borne from her spying; then good, let her fear being heard. Edmund felt his righteous pain strengthen. “Say it,” he commanded. “So you can get back to your next target.” 

He hadn’t meant to say the second part; he wished he could take it back. The jealousy that erupted in him when he saw her leaning toward Townsend, the way she used to lean towards him, had shoved the words out of his mouth. Part of him didn’t want her to know that she could still upset him that way, but another part wanted her to know because she should know the pain she leaves behind. 

“My next –?”

Her innocent look did nothing to soothe him. “The young Townsend downstairs?” he sneered. “I take it he’s married too.” 

The jab was unnecessary, but God did it make him feel good. She blinked several times, and Edmund thought for a moment he saw tears in her eyes. “That was hurtful,” she said truthfully. 

“Imagine that,” he spat. 

She seemed to stop breathing; they stared at each other for a long moment, Edmund trying to gather the courage to look away from her. Even though he had promised he wouldn’t bend to her will, she was still so beautiful, her eyes so full of emotion, he had a hard time looking away from them. Finally, Anna cleared her throat. 

“I want to take you somewhere safe,” she said, and Edmund crossed his arms. Once again, she was trying to drag him along to some personal war that had nothing to do with him. He furrowed his brows and reached for his key. He saw her hand move toward him, like she was going to take his hand. 

“Nowhere you can take me is anywhere I want to go,” he said over his shoulder, slipping into the room and shutting the door behind him. He slid the lock into place, leaning his forehead against it. God this was hard. 

Her first knock was right beside his head. He recoiled, moving away from the door. It seemed she would not give up this time. He moved toward the bed, sitting on the edge. He had spent so long fighting for her, fighting for her love, that he found that he was in no rush to open the door. He couldn’t be sure this wasn’t another ruse, another lie that she was forced to tell him. He couldn’t trust her. 

The pounding on the door diminished, and Edmund heard her first sob clearly. Immediately, and against his will, he was on his feet again, moving toward the door. He could hear a sound, material on wood, and unrestrained crying. He knelt by the door, his hand resting on the wood, and wrestled with himself. 

Do not open the door, he commanded himself. You will not open the door. It doesn’t matter how much she cries; she cries when she lies. 

Even saying it to himself sent another lightning bolt of pain through him. 

“I know you can hear me,” her voice was quiet, broken. He let out a quiet sigh. “I wish I could tell you how much I hate myself, how much I wish I could have taken the responsibility for everything, how much I would have done to keep you safe.” 

He closed his eyes against her words, not bothering to wipe away the tear that snuck down his cheek. 

“I got stuck between my love for Abraham, a boy that doesn’t even exist anymore, and my love for you, a bright future I didn’t think I deserved.” 

He froze. Did she realize what she had said yet? Had he somehow earned the truth? The entire truth? He heard her take a shuddering breath and moved closer to the door, holding his breath, waiting for her to take back that word, the only one that really mattered. 

Love.

“I came here under orders to get a pass to the city from you, at any cost. And I decided to tell you the truth about why our wedding didn’t happen. But I never told you how happy I was when I thought I might actually get to marry you. How proud I would have been to be your wife. I –”

She was crying again, and Edmund’s hand was the doorknob, his other hand on the lock. He could open the door. He could. But he stopped. 

Did he want to get played for a fool again? Was this enough to trust her? His bruised ego, that painful part of him that wanted to protect himself first, stayed his hand. 

“I haven’t felt a love like yours since my parents got taken from me.” 

Take that, Abraham, he thought triumphantly for a moment. After years, his entire life, of feeling like he would never measure up to enough for a woman, for anyone to love deeply, knowing that she cherished his love was enough to send another tear sliding down his cheek. 

“Selah didn’t know me enough to love me. Abraham loved me because I was something he wanted, a novelty. You loved me because of the good you saw in me. The good I couldn’t even see in myself. And I loved you because you were capable of seeing good in me.” 

There was the word again. Edmund exhaled sharply through his tears, waiting for the inevitable correction. It never came. 

“Because you are a good and decent man. I never wanted to do this to you. I just wanted to live up to that woman you always thought I could be.” 

She was crying again, and he almost missed her next words, broken by her hiccups and her sobs. 

“But I’m always going to let you down.” 

How, how could a woman like Anna Strong think she wasn’t good enough for him? Edmund struggled to comprehend any thought process that would have led her to that conclusion. By all accounts, he always thought he would never be good enough for her. Not handsome enough, not smart enough, not wild enough, not young enough. He could go on forever. 

“I loved you, I loved you so much it caused me physical pain. I am in pain every single day because I know that I ruined you, just like I ruin everything else. I sacrificed everything for my country, but my country doesn’t care about me. I would have given all of it up, my country, my friends, my home, so that I could be your wife. And I know that I told you I didn’t love you, but I lied. God I lied, just like I keep doing, no matter what I promise. I lied because I don’t want you to die for me, like my parents, like so many soldiers. I want you to be safe, and you can’t be safe with me.” 

Sometime during her speech, Edmund had stopped breathing. He gathered air back into his lungs, finally letting out a hysterical kind of laugh that shook his shoulders and freed another few tears. She loved him. She loved him. He wanted to cheer. He wanted to celebrate. But his heart still ached. Why did they have to go through so much to get to this place? Why was honesty so hard for her? 

“So why are you here?” he asked, trying to steady his voice. 

“Because if I don’t take you with me, you’re going to die,” she said firmly from the other side, and she sounded so sure, Edmund immediately accepted it. “Edmund, please, let me in.” 

The use of his Christian name still ached, as did everything, but he reached for the lock. Sometime during her confession, she had gotten up from the floor. Her face was wet with her tears, her hair sticking to the tear tracks that stretched all the way to her neck. 

She was beautiful and terrible. A natural disaster. 

He stepped aside, and she entered the room, her eyes glancing around the neat space. 

“Now, why exactly am I going to die?” he asked. 

“I got some information that will end the war, and that means you’re about to be on the wrong side. If luck isn’t on your side, you won’t make it back to England before your side loses.” 

He wasn’t so sure about that. The authority of the crown wouldn’t be defeated so easily. But then again, he had never known Anna to be wrong. “How does that affect me?” 

“Because when the spies are all revealed, they’ll know that you knew about them. You’ll be tried for treason.” 

He could see her eyes falling to his hands, the ones she would reach for when she wanted to get his attention, when she wanted to manipulate him. Her touch was so intoxicating, so illuminating, that he clasped his hands together, trying to keep his mind straight. 

“What’s the information?” he asked. It was one thing to declare her love, but if she truly trusted him, she would know that he wouldn’t tell anyone what she had learned. As much as he loved and owed his loyalty to the crown, he didn’t care about this war anymore. He didn’t want to bother with bloodshed ever in his life again. 

“Your side has turned Benedict Arnold to their side and intend to use him as the means to win the war. Now that we know, the British army has no spy in our ranks, and we only have to cast the killing blow in York City before the war is over,” she whispered, taking care to move away from the door. 

“That could take months,” he shrugged. 

“I don’t want to take that chance, Edmund,” she was pleading with him now. “Not with you.” 

“I still have to be cashiered,” he was just looking for excuses now. He didn’t want to be a traitor to the crown; wherever she was going to take him would be a treasonous offense. He turned away from her and removed his wig long enough to run his fingers through his hair and quickly replaced it. 

“Who cares?” she exclaimed loudly. “By the time they get around to you, York City might not be yours anymore, and who knows what will happen in that battle.”

“You think I can’t protect myself in battle?” he asked, somewhat hurt. He had survived plenty, including imprisonment and Simcoe out for his blood. He could handle a lot more than she seemed to think. 

She finally reached for his hands; the resulting jolt could have floored a weaker man. His thumbs immediately set to rubbing her knuckles against his will. It soothed him as much as it did her. “I know that you can protect yourself, but I don’t want to take the chance. I chose to break your heart to keep you safe, and now I’m choosing to tell you the truth so that I can keep you safe again.”

He sighed, trying to decide. 

“You’ve loved me for so long, you’ve suffered for so long, without any indication that you would ever know if I loved you back. I owe you this. Let me protect you,” she implored him, locking onto his eyes desperately. He found he couldn’t look away. “I do love you, Edmund. And I would like to love you for a long time.” 

All of this seemed too good to be true; Edmund suddenly feared this was a lie, a dream. “I don’t know if I believe you,” he said, his voice almost too soft to hear. 

“I understand,” she said with a sad smile. “But will you give me a chance to show you?” Her hand landed softly on his cheek, and he had to stop himself from closing his eyes at her soft, infectious touch. 

He was already in too deep again. 

He lost himself in her fingertips for a while, trying to gather his thoughts. He already knew that he was going to go with her; he already knew he would follow her anywhere, even into damned Washington’s camp if need be. 

Finally, he freed himself from her hands and turned toward the bed. 

“What do we need to do?”


	3. Nothing Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna saves Edmund.

Edmund Hewlett wasn’t sure if he ever expected to feel Anna Strong’s hand in his again. As it was, she was pulling him down the stairs of the tavern he had been living in, waiting for permission to leave back to Scotland. She was leading him to places unknown, places she claimed were safe, but she had insisted that he keep on his uniform and his wig, at least long enough to get them safely out of the city. He wasn’t used to feeling unsafe in a city full of His Majesty’s loyal subjects. 

Her feet hit the floor of the tavern first, her hand still locked in his; his eyes swept up to Townsend, who was eyeing their connected hands with something that looked like confusion and curiosity. Edmund gave him a shy smile and a shrug that Townsend did not return. 

That was unusual, he thought as Anna brought him up to the counter and addressed Townsend like they were familiar. 

“Did you do what I said?” she asked, her voice hushed, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush. “When will they get word?” 

Townsend’s eyes flicked over to Edmund. Anna tightened her grip on his hand. “He’s with me,” she said confidently. “Don’t worry.” 

But Edmund was quickly putting the pieces together. “Townsend…you…”

Anna’s wide eyes quickly shushed him. Yet another acquaintance of his was a spy for the rebellion; truly Edmund was having trouble reconciling the quiet, soft Robert Townsend with anyone related to the spying business that Anna was a part of. She and Abraham seemed much too abrasive to be involved in any covert operations that Townsend would deem safe enough to participate in. 

“Not for a couple of days,” Townsend answered quietly, “unless you get back first. But you might have trouble.” 

Anna went very still. “Why?” she asked, her voice dropping still lower. 

“Because John Andre is here, and he wishes to talk to Major Hewlett,” Townsend’s gaze landed on Edmund, and Anna’s hand went clammy. “By now, he’s seen you two here, hands clasped. So come up with a story, quickly, and pretend you’ve been paying your bill.” 

This was not how Edmund expected to be cashiered; Anna’s eyes met his, and he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I suppose we’ll have to think of something, won’t we?” he asked, directing the question at Anna, who almost flinched at the harshness of his tone. He was already regretting becoming party to this covert business. He had enough trouble in social situations alone, much less with the knowledge of a spy sitting right beside him. He could feel the beginnings of trembles starting in his hands. 

He reached into his pocket and took out a couple of bills. “Thank you, for everything,” he said to Townsend, who took the bills with a smile that told him he understood the sincerity, even in the face of such a farce. 

John Andre was a handsome, intimidating figure, his hand wrapped carelessly around a tankard while his knee balanced a sketchbook. Edmund released Anna’s hand but led her over to the table just the same. Andre’s eyes met his first, a judgmental, quick once-over that made Edmund feel, if possible, even less adequate, and passed over to Anna. He took a much longer time with Anna, his eyes lingering on her face and the bare skin of her neck and collar. Edmund felt a spark of jealousy when Anna flushed. 

“I remember you,” Andre said, but his words were directed at Anna. Edmund, horrified, raised his eyes to her. She was smiling demurely, her eyes directed downward. She curtsied. 

“Of course sir, I was invited to one of your exclusive parties with Philomena,” she said, and Edmund watched, frozen in disbelief, as she took the seat beside him. “It was such fun, taking part in the revelry with the soldiers.” 

“Do sit down, Edward,” Andre said, sparing Edmund a glance. 

“Edmund,” he corrected, but his voice was almost lost on Andre, who was still staring at Anna. 

“And what are you doing in York City?” Andre asked, taking Anna’s hand and kissing her knuckles. Anna graced him with another blush, and Edmund had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. 

He felt like he was watching his own folly reflected in Andre’s easy admiration of Anna. Was this how pathetic he was, falling into the depths of her eyes so easily? Was he as easy to manipulate as Andre, the man who was supposed to be the leader of British intelligence? No wonder a cabbage farmer could get the better of them, he thought bitterly, all they needed to do was have Anna bat her eyes at them. 

“Oh, I came here with my fiancé,” Anna said with a purr in her voice, her large eyes moving to take hold of Edmund’s. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes wide. Oh no. They were not going here again. Just the word put a pressure of pain on his heart. 

“Your fiancé?” Andre repeated incredulously. “Congratulations, Major, it seems like you’ll have a souveiner to take home to Scotland.” 

Anna blanched at that, and Edmund had to force himself to smile. “It seems that I will.” His hand settled on top of Anna’s, and she clenched it into a fist, hidden by Edmund’s much larger one. He squeezed it gently. Do not give yourself away, he thought. “Now, we were just about to retrieve the rest of Miss Smith’s belongings when we heard you were here. Is there something we could do for you?” 

The sound of her maiden name made Anna stiffen. Edmund let his fingers start brushing soothing circles onto her hand. It was a necessary adjustment, leaving Selah Strong’s name out of the conversation. Selah had been sent to the Jersey, and Andre would know that. He didn’t need to know that Anna was connected to any rebel sympathizers. No matter how charming she was, Andre would try to use her. 

“Are you from Setauket as well?” Andre directed at Anna.

Again, Edmund was ignored. 

“Yes, sir,” Anna replied. “But a soldier frightened me out of my home, so I retreated to Philadelphia, where I tried my hand at acting. Truth be told, I’m not very good –”

Edmund couldn’t resist the undignified snort that snuck out of him. Andre and Anna turned to him. He paused for a moment. “Oh, my dear, I think you’re a lot better than you give yourself credit for.” 

She glared at him, his meaning not lost on her. Andre motioned for her to continue. 

“I ended up returning to Setauket, where I met my dear Major,” she fixed Edmund with the same gaze she used to give him, the same stare he had been blessed with after his captivity. Was it real then? Was it real now? 

The questions exhausted him. 

“And now we are to be married in Scotland, so that I can meet his family, since I have no more of my own.” 

“And…who was this soldier that frightened you from your home?” Andre asked, concern clouding his face. “No Queen’s soldier should be behaving unjustly, especially to a woman so beautiful.” 

“His name was John Simcoe,” Edmund interjected clearly. 

“Simcoe?” Andre asked. “You must be the woman then,” he said with a breathless realization. “A very long time ago, Captain Simcoe asked to be returned to Setauket because there was someone he left behind. That must have been you.” 

“He can’t leave behind what he never had,” Anna responded, her soft, demure voice dropping away to her real one. Edmund tightened his hold on her hand. 

Get it together. 

Her eyes danced over to his for just a moment and she softened. “With all due respect, sir, Simcoe treated none of us with respect, especially the women, and especially Major Hewlett. He conspired to have him killed and almost succeeded. He has been –”

“He has been on assignment recently,” Andre waved off Anna’s words, suddenly disinterested in the dastardly deeds of Simcoe. “He is searching for Culper, a rebel spy.” 

Anna’s smile seemed paralyzed on her face. “Culper?” she asked, her voice just a tad too high to be sincere. “What a strange name.” 

“We think it’s an alias,” Andre responded easily. “Now, that is why I’ve asked to meet with you, Edward –”

“It’s Edmund,” Anna and Edmund answered immediately. Andre paused, for just a moment, and continued. 

“Of course. You were stationed in Setauket for a long while. Did you find anyone that was particularly…suspect?” 

Edmund considered the options given to him by the question. It would be so easy to give up Abraham now, letting him feel that same vice-like pinching of destiny coming to breathe down his neck. He deserved it, he thought bitterly, for ruining so much of his life. He deserved to hang. But he could feel the slightest of trembles in Anna’s hands, and he could feel Townsend’s eyes on him. 

Revealing Abraham meant revealing all of them; all of the people that delivered harsh truths, the people that had truly decided to love him because of who he was, not his coat, not his station. Revealing Abraham could lead to Anna’s neck in a noose beside him. 

Edmund forced a laugh. “Setauket is not nearly as sleepy as the residents would have you seem,” he said carefully, “but full of spies? Not likely. Most of the citizens are caught up in making sure their harvest will help them survive the winter. The rebel forces that once lived in that city have long left, and I firmly believe they took all loyal to their cause with them.” 

Anna’s hand momentarily tightened on his. It was a thank you. 

***

“Have you considered how you’re going to get me into your camp?” Edmund asked Anna as they settled onto the back of Abraxas, Townsend’s horse. “I highly doubt they’re going to let in a soldier in Her Majesty’s army, even if I am not truly a soldier for her anymore.” 

“They’re going to let you in,” Anna said firmly. “Because if they don’t, they’ll have to wait too long to get the information about Benedict Arnold.” 

“I thought that was your big success,” Edmund said slowly, gripping Abraxas’s reins a little tighter as they navigated their way to the checkpoint. Anna, her shoulders pressed to his chest, shrugged. 

“You’re more important,” she said simply. 

He had nothing to say to that. His resentment, his residual anger that he had been harboring at the idea of being manipulated by Anna Strong once more dissipated as she settled deeper into his embrace, her pinned up hair tickling the side of his face. That she considered him more important than effectively the biggest bit of information that the rebel army had gotten hold of so far, was an astounding comparison. Here was the end of the war, locked away in her head in one sentence, and yet she was willing to hold her tongue until he was safe. 

“You do love me, don’t you?” he asked quietly, into her hair. She shifted against him, her thinner shoulders fitting easily between his arms. 

“I am a liar, Edmund,” she replied, “but only by necessity, to save myself and those I care about. I have no reason to lie to you anymore.” 

He let her lean into him, heavier than before, and allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and relish in it. His pain, his heartbreak, melted away, and he forgot about the war, about the deception, about all of it. He allowed himself to love her again, untethered by anything. He gently pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin behind her ear, the only bit of her skin he could reach in his position. She hummed in appreciation. 

They rode in silence for hours after that, both of them trying to mend what they had allowed the other to break. They would have the freedom to heal now.

***

“He’s a British officer, Annie,” Caleb said firmly, trying to cut Edmund out of the conversation. But still, mercifully, Edmund could hear him. “Washington will never let him in.” 

“Then let him meet him,” Anna argued. “Because I’m keeping him safe. And if you don’t let him into camp, then you won’t hear what I learned from Abigail.” 

Caleb gaped at her. “You have to tell –”

“I have to do nothing,” Anna retorted. “Let Washington vet him. Or I walk. And if he wants a reason,” she continued as Caleb furiously opened his mouth to respond, “tell him that his precious Culper is the one that put him in danger in the first place.”

Caleb surveyed her face, jaw clenched, chin raised, for a few moments before he turned his eyes to Edmund. “Consider yourself a lucky man,” he said as he gathered his gun over his shoulder. “Annie,” he directed at her, “Stay here.” 

***

“Anna, this is a dinner,” Edmund whispered into her ear as Caleb escorted them into a tent. She didn’t answer him, but tightened her hold around his hand. 

“You can thank Martha for that,” Caleb answered, pulling out the chair for Anna. “She insisted.” 

“She’s here?” Anna exclaimed. 

Caleb nodded sagely. “She’s nice, Annie, don’t get so worked up.” He patted the top of her head, and Edmund watched with curiosity as Anna swatted at him. They had such an easy friendship, such an easy history, that he was both blessed and confused to see Anna so in her element. 

“This is truly where you belong,” he said quietly. “You’re happier here.” 

“Truthfully, Major, she’s happier because you’re here,” Caleb said easily. “She’s been a downer for months now.” 

“Caleb!” 

“Yes, young Brewster is correct,” a deep voice caught all three of them off-guard, and Edmund was momentarily distracted by Anna vaulting to her feet to follow. After a few moments, he rose, his hands clasped behind his back. “Mrs. Strong has been lost and unhappy here in camp since she joined us. I am happy to see that her spirits have finally turned.” 

“Your Excellency,” Anna curtsied, much lower than she had done for Andre, and Edmund gave him a bow, the inclination of his head that Washington returned. 

“Mrs. Strong,” Washington responded, “Major Hewlett, may I introduce my better half, Mrs. Washington?” 

“Martha, please,” she said, extending her hand to Edmund, who kissed the tips of her fingers, and Anna, who curtsied. “Have a seat, I want to hear all about this revolutionary love that has moved one of our best spies to bring a former British soldier to camp.” 

There was no malice in her words, but Anna felt the pressure just the same. The term she had bestowed upon their relationship, “revolutionary love,” almost made her smile, but she felt…improper, sitting at a dinner with the two most powerful people of the revolution, gushing about her love for a British officer. 

Anna embarked on the story as Billy presented them with food, something she didn’t recognize that she probably wouldn’t eat because she was too nervous. 

“I was supposed to keep an eye on him so I could steer him away from Culper and spies, but…he was so kind, such a good man, that we became friends,” Anna was saying, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. 

“And then more,” Martha prompted, a smile gracing her face. 

“And then more,” Anna confirmed, finally allowing her hand to take hold of Edmund’s. He looked down at it, his eyes soft and smiling, and let her continue with the story. “I wasn’t sure what I felt until he was taken by our own officers and held captive for a murder that Simcoe committed. When he returned, after I thought him dead, I knew I had to protect him from the dangers my own choices could bring him.

“So when he proposed his love for me, I knew that it was my chance to save him and to save myself. See, the ring felt like it was falling apart, and no one trusted anyone anymore. I thought that if we married and left the country, we would both have a chance to be happy, even if it was somewhere else.” 

“You were planning on leaving the country?” Washington asked, and Edmund was momentarily intimidated by his deep voice that seemed rough with disapproval. “I never heard of that.” 

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Anna admitted. “I was afraid someone would try to stop me.” 

“But someone did stop you,” Edmund finally spoke. Anna’s eyes rose to his. They were getting back to it, the painful part of this ordeal. 

“Oh?” Martha asked, her eyes taking in Edmund’s faithful hold on Anna’s hand. “Who was that?” 

“Culper himself,” Edmund added, glancing to Anna for permission to continue. “He tried to prevent Anna and I from marrying so he told his father that her divorce papers were forged.” 

“That seems like a poor wedding present,” Martha said graciously, trying to skate over the tense quiet that seemed to overtake Anna and Edmund. 

They both fell silent, unsure how to continue. The Washingtons exchanged a worried glance. Anna gently removed her hand from Edmund’s and placed them on her lap. He watched her carefully, looking for her next move, a cue he could respond to. She seemed to be struggling with her emotions. 

“Your Excellency, I understand that bringing anyone to camp is highly unorthodox,” she said in a rush, a tear sneaking down her face as she said it, “and I shouldn’t have brought him here, but –”

“But you love him,” Martha said gently. “If there’s one thing that is lacking in war, it’s a surplus of love.” 

Edmund agreed, but he said nothing, afraid that whatever move he made, he would jeopardize Anna’s plea for his place in Washington’s camp. Truthfully, he didn’t care if he stayed in camp. He just wanted to be with her. 

“Mrs. Strong,” Washington said, pinning her with his gaze, “you are correct in saying that it is unorthodox to bring anyone to this camp, especially one with Loyalist political leanings, but I want you to understand something very important.” 

Anna nodded, sniffing, and Edmund reached for her hand again. 

“Ben has spoken to me of your love for Major Hewlett, and of your sacrifices. I recall you standing before me, the very first time I met you in person, saying that you were committed to our cause, committed to sacrifice. I remember wondering how you could be so committed, how you could know true loss. But sitting here, in front of the two of you, I understand what you had lost, and what you have obviously gone through great lengths to get back.” 

Anna’s eyes were fixed on him, transfixed at the sound of his voice, the heroic efforts that he spelled out so eloquently. But finally, he sighed. 

“But I’m afraid I cannot invite him into camp.” 

Anna’s face fell, and even Martha looked surprised at her husband’s admission. 

“However,” he added into the silence that no one had dared interrupt. “If he were your husband, then I could not separate you.” 

Edmund stopped breathing. So soon after their disaster wedding, Washington wanted them to marry? He wasn’t sure if he could stand in front of her again. She seemed to know what he was thinking; her eyes drifted over to his, wide and full of tears once more. She had accepted his refusal before he said anything. 

“I’m still married to Selah,” she said thickly, through her tears. “I can’t marry him.” 

“And when the war is over, I’m sure your divorce will be granted to you. In the meantime, I see no harm in marrying a man to keep him safe, your previous marital status notwithstanding,” Washington amended. “Women, especially women uprooted by war, are not always granted the ability to get a legal divorce sanctioned by a magistrate. That is an understandable difficulty.” 

“George,” Martha interrupted, “why don’t we give them a moment to talk about it alone?” she asked, seeing the stricken look on Edmund’s face. She stood from her seat without waiting for her husband’s reply and held out her hand for him to take. He obliged them, leaving Anna and Edmund alone. 

“They want us to marry,” Edmund breathed, dropping his head to his hands. “Good lord, to marry.” 

“To keep you safe,” Anna said breathlessly, “I would. I was willing to do it before.” 

“I don’t know if I can stand there without picturing how it went the first time,” he admitted, his head still cradled by his hands. 

Anna gently took both of his hands in hers. “There will be no one present. Just you, me, and the Washingtons to officiate. I ruined our first wedding, I know that, but I always wanted to marry you,” she kissed his hands softly, her lips brushing against the rough skin. “Will you allow me to rectify the mistake I made?” 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, looking into her eyes, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He loved her, god he loved her so much, but he spent so long wondering if she would ever feel the same that he didn’t quite believe it now. 

“You have to promise me something,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear.

“Anything,” she answered immediately. 

“No more lies, no more secrets,” he said firmly. “I want to know everything, even the hard things you don’t want me to know.” 

She nodded. 

“And when the war is over, you obtain a divorce from Selah,” Edmund finished. 

***

Anna and Edmund were wed in Washington’s tent, by George Washington himself, with Martha standing just beside them both. Edmund kept his eyes on his bride the whole time, waiting for her to disappear, waiting for someone to stop them, waiting for his dream to be snatched away once more. 

But none came. 

She kept her eyes on Washington, tears streaming steadily down her face, a smile gracing her lips. When he kissed her, he could taste the salt of her tears and the sweet taste of her love. 

He got married in civilian’s clothes, without his wig, and his wife’s first act was to muss his short, brown hair with a giddy smile on her face. He jerked away from her hand, a blush coloring his cheeks. But she was persistent, her hand brushing against his scalp, making all of his hair stand on end. 

“You must desist,” he insisted, trying to flatten his hair desperately. 

“I’m your wife,” she said happily, her mouth still pulled into a smile. “It’s my duty to muss your hair.” 

“It most certainly is not.” 

She ignored his protestations and ran her fingers through it, letting out a breathy little contented sigh that spiked his body temperature. She planted a sweet kiss on the crease of his mouth, almost missing his lips entirely, as her hands continued to touch his hair. He squirmed away from her, and soon, they were both giggling, their arms tangled around each other while he tried to fix the continued damage she was doing to his hair.

“Well, this is not what I expected the newlyweds to be doing,” Caleb was watching them both, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I’ve never seen his real hair, Caleb,” Anna protested as Edmund finally succeeded in removing her hands from his hair. 

Edmund addressed Caleb. “I truly don’t see the big deal.” 

Caleb shrugged. “As far as I can tell, if a woman wants to touch you, just let them.” He stuck out his hand to Edmund. “Be good to my Annie, Hewlett.” 

Edmund shook his hand firmly. “I intend to be.” 

Anna made a protesting sound. “I’m not a baby sheep that needs to be protected,” she whined. “But, I would like one thing,” she said, a devious smile playing around her lips that Caleb noted with a raised eyebrow. 

“As a future note, Hewlett, that’s a face you don’t want to see often,” he said, pointing at Anna. She huffed. “What, Annie, what do you want?” 

She smirked. “I want to be the one to take the news to Abraham.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you that are wondering, Anna did pass along the information about Benedict Arnold after the dinner with the Washingtons. I did not include the conversation because it disrupted the flow of the last few bits.


End file.
